


Pipedream

by Anonymous



Series: Forbidden Kinks [7]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Dehumanization, Human Furniture, Light BDSM, Magic, Other, Scat, Spells & Enchantments, Watersports, human toilet, piss drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-06
Updated: 2016-04-06
Packaged: 2018-05-31 16:12:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6477076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ever since the nogitsune thing, Stiles had felt a little off kilter. He’s not quite sure if it’s the whole “a trickster fox demon took control of my body and killed dozens of people, including two of my friends” thing or the “I almost died because of said trickster fox demon”, but something about his body was wrong now. Like his skin didn’t fit his bones, or perhaps his mind didn’t fit his head. Considering he sometimes still felt a little more than insane, it was probably the latter.</p><p>He was basically useless to the pack now. He needed a way to be useful again.</p><p>~~</p><p>“Stiles, what am I supposed to do with all of this? Do you really expect me to understand this?”</p><p>“You don’t need to understand,” he assures her. “I know this is… kind of an extreme thing.”</p><p>“This is a very extreme thing. Stiles, the pictures you have here – it’s all of people being used as toilets. Actual toilets.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pipedream

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: How about Stiles becomes so obsessed with becoming a toilet that he turns to magic. Maybe he discovers a spell that links him to the pack, so that he never needs to eat/sleep/breathe/go to the bathroom again (as they do it for him). He then convinces them to “install him” into the bathroom of the rebuild of the Hale house. -Anon
> 
> So I honestly don't know what happened with this one. I started out writing some kink and then it turned into this long, angsty-plot-filled thing. I'm so sorry if this wasn't what you were looking for! I am definitely going to be writing some more human toilet!Stiles in the future, so you can look forward to that if that's what you really want. If you want me to write a few short vignettes from different POVs as they use Stiles, or maybe of the Sheriff finding out where his son is or something, let me know! Because I could do that.
> 
> Also, in this fic, Erica and Boyd are not dead, Isaac is still with the pack, as is Jackson, Derek is still alpha, and Malia is still at Eichen house. Just to keep it simple. Allison and Aiden are very much dead, though, sorry.

Ever since the nogitsune thing, Stiles had felt a little off kilter. He’s not quite sure if it’s the whole “a trickster fox demon took control of my body and killed dozens of people, including two of my friends” thing or the “I almost died because of said trickster fox demon”, but something about his body was wrong now. Like his skin didn’t fit his bones, or perhaps his mind didn’t fit his head. Considering he sometimes still felt a little more than insane, it was probably the latter.

 

And he was afraid, like, all the time. At school, at home, with the pack. Everywhere. Because if Stiles had learned one thing from the nogitsune, it’s that monsters didn’t always come from outside – sometimes, they attacked you from within.

 

By the time junior year ended, he hadn’t slept more than three hours for nearly a year. He’d lost a lot of weight, and barely had energy for anything. The pack had gotten into another fight – some wendigos had made themselves known – and he had barely been able to focus for long enough to figure out how to kill them before they ate the entire population of Beacon Hills. He was basically useless to them now.

 

So, like always when they had a problem they couldn’t fix on their own, Stiles went to Deaton.

 

“There is nothing I can do beyond suggesting you get some medicine for your symptoms,” the vet had told him.

 

“Nothing magical or whatever? Is there a book for magical sleep remedies, or something, that I could read? Maybe I could find something in there.”

 

“Such a book does exist,” Deaton told him plainly. “It is very old, and when I acquired it, I was warned against using any of the spells within it without careful consideration. Similarly, I would not advise you to recite any of them, either.”

 

“Just, please,” he’d practically begged. “I promise, if I find a spell, I’ll bring it to you to check out before I do anything to it.”

 

And so that was how Stiles found himself staring at an old spell at the back of a large tome that Deaton had given him. He’d been up all night going through it, reading each spell carefully, eager to find something. He really had only been looking for more than a sleeping spell – maybe a potion of dreamless sleep like in Harry Potter. That would be pretty sweet.

 

He didn’t find anything like that, though. Instead, he found a scrap of paper, filled with nearly illegible writing nestled in between pages of the book. The fact that it had clearly been folded away carefully was what drew his interest, and before long, he had managed to decipher some of what it said.

 

And what it said? Well, it sounded fantastic. It was essentially a spell that would tie him to the pack. Body, spirit, and mind. As long as a member of the pack was alive, he would remain alive. As far as he could tell, it would trump everything – suffocation, starvation, dehydration; whatever hit him, it wouldn’t matter, because the pack would take care of all that for him.

 

But what it also meant, was that he would no longer have to sleep. And therefore, he would no longer need to dream. And he would have no reason to fear death anymore.

 

He immediately called Deaton – “from what you are saying, there is no reason that that spell doesn’t do exactly what it says it does, bu-“ – and hung up immediately after he had confirmation that the spell wasn’t a false lead.

 

Looks like he has a pack meeting to call.

 

~~

 

“Nothing is wrong, I promise, I just needed to ask you guys something. Ask you guys _for_ something. And if you could please remain quiet until I finish, that would be great.”

 

Isaac, not looking at all impressed that Stiles had called a meeting for anything but a life or death mission, waved his hand impatiently to get him talking. So Stiles took a deep breath, gathered his courage, and steamrolled ahead.

 

He explained every detail of the spell, pulling out the page he’d carefully placed in his pocket to have Lydia confirm what he was saying. “It would connect me to you, in every physical way. I won’t need to sleep, eat, or anything because you’ll be doing that.”

 

They were all looking at him with clear shock on their faces. He knew it was a little extreme, but it was everything he was looking for. He just needed to convince them. He sighed before continuing.

 

“Look, I know it sounds insane. But I just… I can’t stand the thought of being human for the rest of my life. And I don’t want to be a werewolf, or a- a werecoyote or whatever the hell I would even turn into. I don’t mean human like that, I mean… like _human_. Having to worry about everybody I love dying, and having to think all the time… and having to be afraid that I might die. It sucks.

 

“And if I’m tied to you, with this spell, some of that will go away. As long as one of you is alive, I’ll be alive – the pack keeps breathing, I keep breathing.

 

“I just, I want – I need to be in a place where that can’t happen again. The nogitsune – I was the one that let it in. And I know everything that happened with Al-,” he took a moment to breathe before continuing. “I know that I wasn’t the one who killed Allison, or Aiden, or any of those people. But it was still my fault, in a way that you guys will never be able to convince me it’s not. The nogitsune could have picked any of you, but it knew that I would be the easiest target. And I was. And I’m going to have to live with that forever, but at least this way, I won’t be so afraid all the time.”

 

There was a strange emotion sitting in the room as everybody looked at him; it was a cross somewhere between understanding and pity. It wasn’t what Stiles had been going for, but if it took pity to get them to agree, he guessed he’d have to take it.

 

“The way this pack is going, Stiles,” Erica said carefully. “None of us will be alive that much longer, anyways.”

 

“I know,” he said. “But if all of my friends are dead, I don’t have much of a reason to stick around.”

 

This didn’t reassure them, and he found himself wringing his hands together as he tried to find some way to convince them. They must be aware of how difficult these past few months have been to him – if not before, then certainly now that he’s spelled it out for them.

 

“Please, I just – I need you to do this - if not to keep me alive, to keep me _sane_. Because I literally feel like I’m going insane. I don’t want to end up back in Eichen. If you guys don’t do this for me, I’m not sure what else I’ll be able to do.”

 

He met all of their eyes, one by one, begging them. Lydia nodded first, slowly, before straightening up. “I think we should do it.”

 

“What?” Derek said gruffly from across the room, looking sharply at her.

 

“The spell looks sound – the Latin is all correct, and if Deaton has approved it, and if Stiles really wants it –“

 

“I do,” he interjected hurriedly.

 

“- I don’t see any reason we shouldn’t. Besides, we’ve all been worried about Stiles for months. With this, we’d have no reason to worry about him, ever. No matter what the problem is – whether it be some nightmares, or the new monster of the week. He’ll be fine.”

 

“The spell even says that, if I get hurt, I should gain some of the abilities of my bond mates. That means I’ll heal faster – wouldn’t you all feel better knowing your resident human can heal just as well as you can?” He asks with a charming grin, meeting Derek in the eye. He knows that the major reason the alpha always has him on research duty is because he doesn’t want Stiles to get hurt. And he’s glad to say this protectiveness isn’t because of the nogitsune – really, too many things in his life can now be traced back to that tragedy – but instead, the result of some ingrained need to protect humans in the pack.

 

The alpha huffs and rolls his eyes at him, crossing his arms across his chest and returning his glare to Lydia. She meets his gaze easily, as stubborn as always.

 

“There’s no risks?” he says, clenching his teeth.

 

“None that I can see,” she answers.

 

“How many people can he bond to?”

 

“Technically, he only bonds to you – as an alpha, you “speak” for the pack, so to say.”

 

“Will he still be human?”

 

“Technically, yes. The spell will not change his molecular structure, so at the core of it he will remain human. He simply won’t have the basic human needs, such as air, as his body will be supplied with oxygen from us. It will be the same for food and sleep.”

 

Derek doesn’t follow the answer up with another question, instead turning his eyes back towards Stiles. He’s no longer glaring – instead, his eyes are oddly blank as they shift over his face. Stiles knows what he’s seeing – the pale skin, stretched too thin over sharp bones, the dark circles that make his eyes appear as if they’ve sunk in an inch, the way his lips are chapped from one too many bites.

 

All in all, it’s not a pretty picture, and he knows it. Derek’s face doesn’t change at all as he looks him over, though, and he’s sure that he’d about to say no to him. He swallows as he braces himself for a lifetime of this hell, and closes his eyes at the thought.

 

But the rejection doesn’t come – instead, he hears Derek sigh, and mutter one word in a small voice: “Fine.”

 

~~

 

The spell, thankfully, goes off without a hitch. Deaton was kind enough to step in as mediator between Stiles and Derek and connect them.

 

When it was done, it was like Stiles had done a complete 180. He looked healthier – with no need for sleep, the circles that had become a permanent part of his eyes were gone. His skin was no longer pale, and even the anxiety that had surrounded him constantly since the kanima incident had disappeared from the air, leaving behind the smell of peace. Even back at the beginning of this whole mess, Scott knows he’s never smelled that emotion on his friend.

 

They pack might have had slight reservations about the spell, but now that it was complete and they could see the effects, they were all very glad they’d done it.

 

For Stiles, he found it a bit underwhelming. He was happy, now, sure. He was able to do a lot more research now without having to sleep, and even more now that he no longer had to worry about keeping his breathing steady. His whole body felt steady, really.

 

But just because he had no reason to be afraid now, doesn’t mean the fear went away. And he realizes that even though he can’t die, that doesn’t mean he can’t still hurt someone.

 

In fact, to his horror, he is now basically the perfect candidate for another possession – human and therefore weak-minded, but with the added ability of not really being able to die. It’s like his worst nightmare come true.

 

The spell is irreversible. Deaton had told them this when they’d done it, but Stiles still found himself searching desperately for a cure only a week after it’s set in. Of course, he doesn’t find anything.

 

Stiles despairs for only a moment, regretting what he’s done, before he sits up straight again. “Well,” he murmured to his empty room, “if there was a spell for half the problem, there must be a spell to fix the rest of it.”

 

Opening up a new tab in his browser, he began searching.

 

~~

 

Three weeks and a vampire infestation later, Stiles still hasn’t found a spell for what he wants. He’s found spells for basically every other issue he could possibly have, but nothing to help him out with his specific problem.

 

Not that he even really knows what his problem is. Does he want to ensure he never gets possessed again? Sure, and he’s already done the anti-possession spell on himself, but it only works on actual demons, not nogitsunes. Does he simply want to never be afraid again? He’s found a bravery spell, but it only works for a few hours at a time, so he’ll just save that for when he needs it. Does he simply want to have no chance to be a threat to the pack?

 

That’s closest to it. Stiles can’t help but think back to the pack meeting, when he’d been trying to explain why he wanted to bond to the pack. He’d said then that he didn’t want to be human, and while he definitely didn’t mean he wanted the bite, he still knows why he’d said that. He _doesn’t_ want to be human – humans make mistakes, humans can fail. Stiles has already failed enough. He sees his failures every time he looks at Scott and remembers how much he’d loved Allison. He sees it every time he sees Ethan and Lydia, mourning for a brother and a boyfriend, respectively.

 

Stiles can’t be human anymore, because he doesn’t want to kill anybody else.

 

He’s not paying attention to what he’s been doing on the computer, but when he does refocus, he’s about twenty pages into a Google search he doesn’t even remember. The page is filled with blogs of no professional merit, and he considers just turning off the computer and going back to Deaton, when he accidentally clicks on one of the links.

 

It brings him to one of the blogs. The coding on the website is terrible, and the colouring is an eyesore, but the picture in the centre of the screen makes him ignore all that. It’s of a man kneeling naked on all fours with a glass pane on his back. There’s also drinks and a vase of flowers on the pane, as if this man were nothing more than a table. Oddly intrigued, he scrolls down slightly to the caption.

 

_I love being my Master’s table. When I’m in position, I am nothing more than His furniture to use as He pleases. There is no room for me to have my own thoughts, and with the glass on my back, I am forced to keep still as He entertains His friends with drinks._

It’s weird. Definitely weird. Stiles considers himself to be a well-travelled man when it comes to kinks. Without a girlfriend (or a boyfriend), he’s spent many an hour browsing porn site after porn site, discovering his likes and dislikes. But he’s never seen anything like this.

 

Scrolling back to the top of the page, he sees a description and reads it. Apparently, this kink is called forniphilia, and there is many different forms of furniture that people enjoy acting as. _For some, falling into subspace is an escape from reality, and the only place they feel safe_ , the description goes on to say.

 

He opens up another tab and searches up subspace. It’s basically what he’d expected – some talk about D/s relationships, and other stuff he’s not interested in. But there’s a line thrown in in the middle of the definition that intrigues him – _the sub may not be capable of making rational decisions about his/her safety and well-being at this point_.

 

That… sounds almost exactly like what he wants. To not be able to make any decisions that could lead to anybody getting hurt.

 

Switching back to the other tab, he scrolls down past the table and looks at the other pictures on the blog. He sees more tables, and then some chairs, and some other various kinds of “furniture”. Some of the submissives are tied up into their positions, and he finds himself lingering longer over these pictures, admiring the idea that they have even less of a chance to mess up somehow, as they are literally being forced to remain in place.

 

The idea of becoming a table or something isn’t appealing to him, though. He thinks it’d be quite embarrassing, being exposed out in the open like that. He’s about to look up other ways besides becoming furniture that he can fall into this subspace, when he sees the next picture.

 

It’s nestled between a human lamp and another human table, but this one seems to be much more extreme than either of those. The man in the photo is lying flat on his back on a slightly-raised platform. There’s handcuffs and ropes and locks stretching across every part of his body, attached to the platform – holding his hands, legs, and torso in place. He even sees a thick leather band holding his neck down, not that he really needs it, because his head is hidden under a box that is clearly locked shut over him, as well. But the box itself isn’t remarkable – it’s the top of the box, where there’s a round opening. It’s for a funnel, and a picture from a different angle shows that the narrow end of the funnel is in the submissive’s mouth. And around the top of the funnel, clearly the focus point of the photo, is a toilet seat. Stiles is looking at a human toilet.

 

He’s frozen looking at it, just staring at all the ropes and locks keeping him in place, looking at the close up picture of the box itself – how the funnel is clearly forcing his mouth open. Focuses on the catheter up the man’s penis, running down to a bucket that is also underneath his ass, clearly there for him to go to the washroom in. He knows exactly what this represents, and he knows he should be disgusted – this man clearly is strapped down with his mouth stretched open so that he has no choice but to consume the waste from someone else’s body. But he can’t help thinking that there could be something there for him – something that he’d been looking for.

 

This is more than the tables or chairs or whatever kind of other furniture people like being. This man is trapped, literally just being used as a pipe between the toilet and the sewer. He’s still clearly visible, but his mind goes off on a tangent as he thinks about options, how he could be more hidden – or if it would be possible to hide him away all together, build him into the actual sewage system.

 

He opens yet another tab, and begins to research, grabbing his notebook and pens along the way.

 

~~

 

He brings his idea to Lydia. She’d been the one to agree to the spell first, and had even helped talked Derek into agreeing with it – Derek, who never agreed with anything any of them ever said. Especially if it was an idea that started with Stiles.

 

The banshee of the pack, however, has a history of looking at things logically, and that’s what he needs. He doesn’t need emotions in this; he _knows_ how they’re all going to feel about it. Hell, he knows how he should feel about it, and he doesn’t know why instead of that, he gets this overwhelming sense of relief from the idea. He’d spent the entirety of last night drawing diagrams and writing down ideas, printing out any pictures he could find that might explain what he wants, and he’s just hoping that they’ll listen to this like they did with the spell.

 

So, he’ll start with Lydia. If he can make her understand his thoughts, he’s got one more person on his side.

 

She invites him into her room easily. They’ve really come far from the times when Peter was the alpha who attacked teenagers in movie rental stores. They sit on her bed, and he only bites his lip in doubt for a minute before he hands her the folder he’s put together.

 

They’re both silent as she looks through it. Stiles can’t discern any exact emotion on her face. It’s just blank, maybe calculating. He knows when she gets to his diagrams because her eyes flicker to his for a moment – and he knows she has realized how much thought and work he has put into this.

 

When she’s gone through the last of the papers, she clears her throat. “Forniphilia?”

 

“Yea, it’s um, well, kind of a kink. But I don’t want it to be a kink.”

 

“I can see that,” she says plainly, holding up one of his diagrams. She sighs, seeming to deflate in front of him. “Stiles, what am I supposed to do with all of this? Do you really expect me to understand this?”

 

“You don’t need to understand,” he assures her. “I know this is… kind of an extreme thing.”

 

“This is a _very_ extreme thing. Stiles, the pictures you have here – it’s all of people being used as _toilets_. _Actual_ toilets.”

 

“I know, I know. And I know how it looks, and how it sounds, but…” he trails off, trying to find a place to start, and remembers what he’d been thinking of when he’d stumbled across the forniphilia blog. “Remember how I was saying that I didn’t want to be human at the pack meeting? Well, technically, with the pack bond spell I’m not human anymore. I don’t need to eat, sleep, or breathe like other humans do. But the thing is, that stuff is all physical. My mind is still my mind. I may not have nightmares anymore, but I’m still afraid of things. I still… I’m still afraid that the nogitsune is going to break out of that container somehow and come find me. I’m afraid that another rogue alpha is going to pop up to kill off my pack. I’m afraid whenever a new monster pops up – that next time, we’re not going to win. And that’ll it’ll be all my fault, because I missed something while researching, or I made a mistake, or something.

 

“It’s… I just have a lot of fear, Lydia,” he turns to her now, looking into her eyes. He’d once romanticized those eyes, but now he’s just hoping to find a little bit of acceptance. “And I need to find a way to stop it. When I found this online… I couldn’t get it out of my head. I didn’t try very hard, really, but still. I think this could actually work.”

 

“Well, have you tried it?” She asks him, and he’s surprised.

 

“What?”

 

“I’m not going to agree to build you into a toilet system if you haven’t tried to be a toilet without all of that. Have you just, I don’t know, eaten your own… _you know_.”

 

He gulps, slightly amazed that she’s even humoring him with this idea. And she has a point – he’s doing this for the headspace, really, the feeling of not caring. But could he really go through with his plan without all of the details?

 

This is why he’d gone to Lydia, after all – she was figuring out the flaws in his plan, bringing the logistics into it.

 

“No,” he answered finally. “I, uh, haven’t done anything about that. I didn’t think about it.”

 

“Well, we’re going to have to do that first. I’ll call Derek.”

 

“Wait, what?!?” he scrambles up quickly, blocking her from reaching for her phone. She looks far from impressed at his actions. “Why would you call him?”

 

“Because he’s our alpha,” she says slowly, as if talking to a child. “If we’re going to figure out a way to test out your idea, he’s the best one to go to. And at this point, unbelievably enough, he’s the one most likely to say yes. And going back to the alpha part, he needs to know about this. Especially since it’s his house you want to be built into.”

 

He opens and closes his mouth silently a few times, searching for a response, but finds nothing. He closes his eyes and flops backwards onto her bed and waves his hand in the air lazily. “Fine. He’s going to think I’m insane, but fine.”

 

“I’ll explain it to him downstairs when he gets here,” she says quietly. He feels her hand brush lightly over his forehead as she leaves the room, and he smiles a little.

 

She might not have agreed to his plan outright, but he knew he could count on her.

 

~~

 

Stiles has said it many times before, and he will fight anyone who dares contradict him on this point: Lydia Martin is a force to be reckoned with. He remained upstairs for the explanation between the banshee and their alpha, so he has no idea what was actually said between them. He did hear raised voices a few times from his spot in her room, but nothing was said loud enough for him to actually catch any words.

 

All he knows is that when Derek comes upstairs, he doesn’t seem nearly as weird about it as he probably should be.

 

He only takes one step into the room before he starts talking. “Is it really that bad?”

 

Stiles blinks, confused. The werewolf huffs and rolls his eyes.

 

“I mean, is it really that bad, your fear? That you’d want to do… something like this to stop feeling it?”

 

He hunches in on himself slightly as Derek avoids saying the words, but he understands. It _is_ a rather weird request. “It’s… it’s like I’m constantly being watched, even though I know I’m not. I see potential enemies everywhere, and I keep thinking that at any moment _I_ could become the enemy again. And now, with the bond spell, I’m an even better host to things than before – a human with werewolf healing benefits, and then some. And I’m afraid that something with come along and realize that, and I’ll be responsible for killing more of my friends.”

 

Derek is already nodding before he finishes. “I get all of that. And, while I’ve never gone through anything quite like this, I know how you’re feeling – I know why you’re blaming yourself, and I get it.”

 

“But you don’t get it,” Stiles says, slightly too harsh. He softens his voice before he continues. “Look, I don’t know how much the others know, but I know about Kate. I know that you think it was your fault, and I understand why you think that. But Derek, it _wasn’t_ your fault. In the end, it was all her. She tricked you into it – made you think you were safe with her, so you spilled all of your secrets. If you had known what she was, you wouldn’t have told her anything. I firmly believe that.

 

“And I know, too, that anything the nogitsune did wasn’t my fault. I simply let it in to cause the chaos, just like you let Kate in to cause the fire. But here’s where we differ – with the fire, it was Kate lighting it, Kate trapping everyone in the house. With the nogitsune, it was _me_. Not consciously me, but my body, and my mind. I remember everything – killing Allison, Aiden. Stabbing Scott, knocking out Kira, taking and basically torturing Lydia – I remember it all, because at the centre of it all, separated or not, it _was me_. And that terrifies me, knowing that the blood is actually on my hands. I don’t think I can live with even the amount I have now – and the chance that I might get more blood on them? It’s all my nightmares put together.”

 

Derek had gone tense when he mentioned Kate, but as he’d blathered on, the lines of his shoulder had softened again, and his face had cleared. He was still nodding every once in awhile, but this time, he was remaining quiet.

 

“I need to do this because I need to not have options – it was my stupid actions that started all of this. I pulled Scott out into the woods, at the very beginning. If I hadn’t done that, I wouldn’t be in this mess. I can’t keep making decisions if they all end up this bad.”

 

“You’ve made plenty of good decisions, too,” Derek says quietly.

 

Stiles nods, slightly hurried. “I know that. But my bad decisions lead to death. That greatly outweighs any good decisions I’ve made.”

 

“What about your dad?”

 

He bites his lip as he considers the question. “I have a few ideas on that front, but I don’t want him to actually… know what I’ll be doing. I don’t need him worrying about this, or whatever. I’ll just tell him I’m going on a road trip or something, to clear my head. At least the last part will be true. I’ll figure something out.”

 

Derek searches over his face for a moment, before sighing. “Alright. Lydia went out to get supplies to build… a box like you found on that blog. With less straps, though. Just something quick to try it out.”

 

Stiles looks up, bewildered. “You’re actually going to let me do this?”

 

“If knowing you for two years has taught me anything, Stiles, it’s that no one _lets_ you do something. If you want to do it, you’ll find a way to do it. At least this way, Lydia and I can make sure you aren’t being stupid about it. However, I am also hoping that once you… _taste_ what it will be like, you’ll give up on this. Lydia is hoping for that, too.”

 

“And if I don’t? Give up, that is?”

 

“Then we’ll take another look at your drawings, and think about working it into the designs for the rebuild of the house.”

 

“Thank you,” he says in a breath, relieved.

 

“I wouldn’t be a very good alpha if I didn’t at least consider letting you do this. I know you’ve tried pretty much everything else to deal with this. Lydia explained the theory behind it, and while I don’t understand the appeal of it, I can understand the reasoning behind it, I guess.”

 

Stiles doesn’t have anything to say to that, so they both fall into silence. It’s not exactly comfortable, but neither of them seem eager to fill it with words, either.

 

When Lydia comes back, there’s a rush of her and Derek putting something together, and soon enough, Stiles finds himself lying on the floor on his back in the bathroom with his head trapped underneath a box, a funnel forcing his mouth wide. He can’t see anything from inside the box, but he can hear talking between the two of them, when it’s suddenly focused on him.

 

“Are you sure about this, Stiles?” Lydia asks from somewhere next to him, and he has to lift the box up with his arms to get his jaw free to talk.

 

“Just do it.” He lowers it back down.

 

She seems to hesitate, and he knows she was expecting a different answer. Probably that once he got under there, he’d realize he didn’t actually want to be a toilet. But in reality, the complete opposite was happening to him. Enclosed like this, he feels calm and secure, despite his body being free for him to move around.

 

“Go,” he hears Derek say. “I’ll do it.”

 

Light footsteps echo in the box slightly as she leaves the room, and he hears the door close behind her. He’s awkwardly aware of how loud his breathing is, echoed in the funnel as it is, and he holds it in. It’s not like he actually needs to breathe anymore, it’s just more of a habit now.

 

He’s not quite expecting it when a heavy weight comes down onto the box, forcing the funnel into his mouth a fraction of an inch more. It takes his mind only a second to realize that Derek is now sitting over him, like he was an actual toilet.

 

His mind goes quiet, and he waits.

 

Derek must be tense at the thought of emptying himself out into his mouth, because he just sits for a long time before anything happens. Stiles estimates that it’s been nearly twenty minutes before he hears a sigh and then a _slop_ sound. And then something is in his mouth.

 

It doesn’t taste good, just as he’d expected. But somehow, it’s also not that bad at the same time. It might be because in his position he can’t smell anything, but the taste merely seems bad instead of vomit-worthy. With these thoughts running through his mind, he moves the chunk around in his mouth, chewing as well as he can with his mouth forced open before swallowing.

 

Most likely having heard the swallow, Derek seems to let loose then. His mouth is filled with shit instantly, and while the taste seems to magnify the more he gets in his mouth, he finds himself enjoying it more and more as he falls deeper and deeper. By the time his mouth is empty, he’s wishing for more.

 

Derek finishes up by peeing into the toilet, and Stiles drinks it down just as readily. He feels the weight lift up off of the box, but makes no move to escape from his position. The werewolf hovers for a bit, waiting for something that Stiles isn’t aware of, before there’s a sequence of sounds. Footsteps, the door opening and then closing, more footsteps. And then more weight on the toilet – he focuses, and it’s lighter. Lydia.

 

She only pees into the funnel – and his mouth – but it’s just as good as when Derek did it. When she rises, she too leaves the room quickly.

 

He comes out an hour later to find that Derek has left. Lydia is looking at him with a peculiar look on her face, but it’s not at all hostile. “How do you feel?”

 

“Honestly? I feel great.”

 

She nods tiredly. “I figured you’d say that. Derek and I were working on plans, for the house. For you.”

 

For the first time in what seems like forever, Stiles smiles.

 

~~

 

Once again, he’s not present for the conversation between Lydia, Derek, and the pack about the situation. All he knows is that when he shows up for pack night, the box from Lydia’s bathroom is in the corner of the room with some ropes near it, and the table is covered with plans for the rebuild of the Hale house. His folder is nearby.

 

No one outright says anything to him. They seem to be treating it like a simple, run-of-the-mill construction project, for which he’s grateful. Peter does send him a slight smirk as they discuss the type of toilet, and it’s only amplified when Erica suggests an eco-friendly one, so that less water is being used up. “We’ll need to use eco-friendly cleaning supplies, too; nothing toxic. Can’t be damaging the piping.”

 

There’s a quick glance in his direction as she says this, but he just shrugs lightly, having no opinion.

 

When the plans are decided on – a rush of decisions and voices that he decides not to focus on, especially since he’s not going to be around to enjoy the outcome of most of them – Lydia leads him over to the box and has him lie down. She uses the rope to ties his arms to his torso, and his legs together.

 

“I figured you should get a little more practice at all of this – and since we’re all here for pack night, it’s the perfect time to do it. You can really see what it will be like.”

 

The box is placed over his head carefully, and soon he’s locked in darkness. He hears a movie get turned on in the background – some action film, from the sound of it, with lots of gun shooting – but he’s not quiet focusing on it.

 

Because he doesn’t need to eat anymore, anything he consumes just kind of… soaks into his body. That’s the easiest way he can put it, he guesses. He doesn’t quite know. But in any case, without him having the need to pee or take a dump, he can easily remain here for hours. Which is what he does. Throughout the night, he drinks plenty bladders full of piss down, and quite a few loads of shit as well. He’s pretty sure one member of the pack had taken some sort of laxative, because multiple times during the movies they watch his mouth is filled with a lumpy, syrupy mess. Not that he minds. He’s pretty sure that it’s Peter. It would certainly explain the looks he was giving him earlier.

 

He’s not surprised when he hears snores begin within the room – he simply takes it in stride, and falls asleep where he is as well.

 

When he wakes up in the morning, he’s still in the box, and someone is sitting on it and filling his mouth. He hears a clattering sound in the kitchen, and his chest warms as he realizes that they’d left him there.

 

He stays there for the rest of the day, as well, serving various members of the pack as they go over more plans for the house. No one thinks to ask his opinion again.

 

~~

 

Construction takes most of the summer. Stiles gets roped into helping with a lot of it, and he does it without complaint, considering the favour they’re going to be doing for him. Sometimes he’s helping with the labour, and sometimes he’s lying down with his head in the toilet-box. He finds he likes the days in the latter category more. He also spends a lot of time with his dad. He feels guilty, thinking about how he’ll be leaving him all alone without an explanation of what’s happening, but he feels worse when he thinks about telling his dad the truth. He knows Scott and the pack will watch over him, so he tried not to worry about it too much.

 

Finally, though, the morning comes where there’s only one thing left to do.

 

“Are you sure about this? Once I hook you up to this, there’s no going back. You’ll be completely built in to the house. I’d have to tear up the piping to get you out.”

 

Stiles stares into the place under the floor where he’s going to be spending the rest of his life. It’s small and cramped, but since he’ll be locked in it’s not like he really needs a lot of room. He can see the straps that will be locking him down from where he’s standing, and he can practically feel them around his body already.

 

Swallowing hard, he just nods in answer to Derek’s question. The werewolf nods back, before surprising him by pulling him into a tight hug.

 

He’s not sure what to do – he’s naked, and the alpha is clearly not, and he’s never really been big on hugging anyway. His hands flutter around slightly, before settling hesitantly on Derek’s back. The werewolf sighs, before muttering into his ear: “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry it had to come to this.”

 

He smiles slightly. “I’ll be fine. Thank you for doing this for me.”

 

He feels another nod against his shoulder, before the man steps back, and any hint of the emotion that had been in his voice is gone. “Get in, then.”

 

Stiles doesn’t allow himself to hesitate anymore. He climbs down carefully into the hole carved out for him, and eases himself down into position.

 

The werewolf climbs down into the hole with him, and begins shackling him in place. There are handcuffs for his wrists and ankles, but there are also plenty of leather straps. Derek is emotionless as he systematically straps and locks each one across his body, and as each one is done, Stiles feels himself losing more and more motion. When the last strap is in place, Derek doesn’t say anything as he goes over each one again, testing it.

 

Reaching over to grab the large pipe that will be inserted into Stiles’ mouth, Derek looks at him one more time. Unable to find the words, and too firmly held down to nod very well, he smiles up at him instead. The alpha’s eyes flare red for a second, before he brings the pipe over the human’s mouth. It opens easily, and after using a little bit of glue around it, it becomes firmly lodged in placed, ready to be hooked up to the toilet that will be above it. He screws a board to hold it into place, sticking straight up, before climbing out of the hole.

 

Stiles knows he’s alone, then, but there is also still light from the bathroom above him, and he only has that and the sounds around him to let him know that he’s still exposed. He knows he won’t be for long, though, and he’s right. It gets a little darker in his little alcove as part of the flooring is put into place. The pipe in his mouth is forced a little further down, suddenly, pulling on his lips that are glued to it. He realizes that it’s because the toilet is now being put in placed and hooked up.

 

Hooked up to him. Because he’s just part of the piping.

 

“Okay, time to test it out, Stiles,” he hears Derek say a moment later, and then the toilet is flushed. There’s a rush of water flooding into his mouth, and it’s a lot, but he still feels like he has all the time in the world to get it down. He wishes that Derek had actually taken a piss or something to test it, but knows it’s just for the seal.

 

He senses more than sees Derek hovering, looking at the pipes to check for any leaks. When he finds none, he leans back out and begins grabbing the rest of the floor base. “Last chance, Stiles – just make any kind of noise right now, and I’ll get you out.”

 

He wishes for a moment that the rest of the pack hadn’t opted out of being here – he wants to see them, or just to hear their voices again. But he’ll be drinking and eating from them for the rest of his life. He knows they’ll be fine. And he’s already said all he wants to say, anyways. Stiles figures these thoughts are just brought on by a little hesitancy, which is only right to have, in a situation like this. In a moment, he’ll be locked away forever.

 

And he wants to call out, suddenly, to make a sound. But he holds himself back, thinking of Allison and Aiden, and how he deserves nothing more than this for what he did to them. So he stays silent, and a few minutes later, he’s in complete darkness as the flooring is put in place above him. For maybe the next hour or so, he hears shuffling as Derek works above him.

 

~~

 

Derek finished the tiling up in the bathroom pretty quickly, and then stepped back to admire it. Lydia was also in the room, of course critiquing his work.

 

“I knew those tiles would be perfect,” she said next to him. “They match the countertops so well. And the fixtures really tie everything together in here.”

 

Derek shrugged, rolling his eyes slightly. “It’s just a bathroom. But I suppose it does look nice.”

 

“I think we all know it isn’t just a bathroom,” she said plainly, and then was silent for a few moments. “How is he doing?”

 

“He told us he didn’t want us checking up on him.”

 

“Just this once? The bathroom is finished now, and considering all the work we put into it, we’re hardly going to rip it up to get him out.”

 

“All the work _I_ put into it, you mean,” he muttered, before sighing and closing his eyes. It was easy to focus on the muffled heartbeat that rested just below the floor. It was steady and calm – calmer than he’d ever heard it before. The sound brought an easy peace into the alpha’s bones, and he couldn’t stop the small smile from breaking out over his mouth. “He’s alright,” he said at last, blocking the heartbeat from his ears.

 

“Good,” the banshee nodded decisively, turning on her heel and marching out the door. “You might want to get changed, our guests will be arriving any minute now.”

 

Derek started following after her, into the kitchen, where Erica and Kira were working on a pot of something on the stove. “Guests?”

 

“I invited the Sheriff and Melissa over tonight – figured now that the house was finally complete, we should have a pack dinner. Plus, school is starting up again next week, so we wanted to celebrate the end of summer, too.”

 

The werewolf paused, thinking about something. “I thought the Sheriff didn’t know?”

 

“He doesn’t. Stiles left him some sort of note about “taking off to find himself” or something. Said he’d call when he found what he was looking for.”

 

“He won’t be calling, though.”

 

She shrugged. “No, but he also has some automated messages set up, or something. For at least the next few years, his dad will be getting some texts saying he’s okay. Plus, we’ll all be keeping an eye on him, as well. He’ll be fine.”

 

The Sheriff certainly didn’t seem too concerned about his wayward son’s whereabouts at dinner. He remained a little quiet, though, taking in the meal as the pack talked around him, a look of wistfulness on his face.

 

Just when Erica announced dessert, the man stood up, and asked where the bathroom was. “That dinner just went straight through me, I’m afraid.”

 

The pack laughed slightly, and Scott pointed it out to him with an easy smile. “It’s just through there – we just finished setting up the bathroom today, so you’ll get to break it in!”

 

A few minutes later, from his place underneath the floor, Stiles begins swallowing as his mouth is filled with water, piss, and shit. His only regret about the situation is that he doesn’t know which member of the pack is using him. As he feels his first meal in his new life settle in his stomach, he relaxes, and let’s himself forget.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is unbeta'd, so if you find any errors, feel free to let me know in the comments. Also, if there is a tag missing or an error with any of the tags, let me know that is well, and I'll adjust them accordingly.
> 
> Feel free to send me any prompts you might have over on my tumblr @forbiddenkinks-ao3 - I'm always around for an IM there, as well.
> 
> Light BDSM - Stiles does get tied up in this fic, and "forced" to be a human toilet. However, it is 100% his idea, and it's not sexual in anyway, so I kept it with "light".
> 
> Someone questioned whether or not this needs to be tagged "Underage", however even though it is not explicitly mentioned, Stiles turns 18 before this fic takes place.


End file.
